


25 Days of 2017 Trans High School AU

by herbailiwick



Series: 30 Days of 1991 & 2017 Mostly Fic and Some Art [2]
Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Dysphoria, Gen, Menstruation, Shaving, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-06 01:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12201348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: Second chunk of my 30 Day Challenge, starring trans high school LeFou and his trans high school friends. Separate due to rating and content! Previous part is Explicit and I don't want it to be in the same chunk as this stuff that I want teens to be able to read!





	1. Bathroom Pass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "First"

First day in a new town, at a new school. That would have been bad enough. 

Oh, there was a certain freedom in leaving behind the past, in starting anew, and LeFou was doing that in more ways than one. It was just going to be Dad and LeFou now. In some ways, that was fine. He had been the more understanding parent. 

“Understanding”, like it was some flaw, some inconvenience. _Inconvenient_ , at times, for LeFou? Sure. There were many ways, every day, that it had been inconvenient, and, depending on the situations at play, depending on how he was feeling, there were still many ways it was inconvenient for him. Why anyone else had to find what _he_  was dealing with inconvenient was lost on LeFou.  


One of the most stunning boys he had ever seen sat by him absently in math first hour, struggling with the concepts. LeFou had been very careful as he’d leaned over and tried to offer some help. His binder was well constructed, but he felt it, a bit, as he leaned, deciding not to do that for too long if he could help it. The boy’s looks already kept him kind of breathless, if he was being honest. 

He was so gay.

He also tried to pay attention to how his voice was coming out. It was never going to be _deep_ deep, and he was okay with that. First impressions mattered at a new school, and first impressions mattered as a trans kid, made it important to focus on perfecting whatever he could so that he could get through the day with the least amount of hassle. 

There were a lot of things he was paying attention to, and a lot of things on his mind. So many things that he’d forgotten to pack something important in his old backpack, and, for LeFou, even more than his voice that would always be pretty high, even more than the chest that didn’t bother him so much sometimes and aggravated him at a constant level under the surface of everything he did at others, it was unforgiveable that he’d forgotten to. 

Thus, cue a quick restroom break, already a little awkward, turning into something so much more humiliating than he expected. 

Oh, the nurse would have something that could help. He’d had a tour and knew where his office was. He wasn’t necessarily looking forward to explaining to a male nurse, a cis male nurse, about his predicament, but as he stared at the first, bright spots, he knew he had to do something. 

Toilet paper it would have to be, for a moment. He carefully wrapped it around the middle section of his briefs, taking a care that was filled with regret. It shouldn’t be a big deal. He knew where to go, he knew what to do.

There was a sharp sting of tears at the corner of his eyes anyway. 

He was just supposed to be in and out! There was something wholly upsetting about being surprised like that in a new restroom, at a new place, every time, when it arguably shouldn’t have bothered him much by then. It _did_ , though, reminding him of tedium he could have been far away from, had things been different. 

“This is bullshit,” he muttered.  


“New kid!”   


A surprised tear did fall, making everything just a bit more ridiculous. “Math dude!” he responded, voice a little rough, but not altogether too high. He tried to pretend he wasn’t already crushing, tried to pretend he wasn’t actually experiencing a crisis in a strange restroom. 

“What’s bullshit?” Hot math dude called, and LeFou froze, for the first time during the crisis, actually froze.  


“What are you doing?” LeFou called toward Math dude, who was still over at the sinks.   


“Trying to fix my hair a little,” he admitted. “Almost lunch time. Thanks for helping me in class. I’m not a fan. Of algebra.”  


“A lot of people aren’t,” LeFou agreed, wishing to talk to him, but even more wishing he would just leave.   


“Speaking of hair, I’m impressed with yours.”  


LeFou blinked at the light orange stall door. “Thank you.” His hair was still long and dark, pulled back in a wavy ponytail or bun most days. He hadn’t been as ready to part with his hair as he was with other potentially partable things.

“I don’t have the patience to grow mine out. Haven’t in a long time. I don’t think it’s for me,” Gaston mused as he messed with a jar of some kind of product, judging from the sound.  


“Are you...gonna leave?” LeFou asked finally. He’d wiped, but he was gonna need to again, and probably again, heavy darkness invading what was normally such a perfunctory visit. He didn’t know if facing that guy was something he could do without breaking down, his face feeling hot and tingly with the intensity of the situation, the visceral and uncertain nature of it.   


“Ha! Sure thing,” Gaston said. “Come find me in the lunch room, if you’d like. It’s not easy being new.”   


No, it wasn’t. LeFou thanked him with sincerity before he was gone.

He sighed out heavily. Wiped again. Washed his hands. Did a final sweep of his backpack again, checking all the pockets, desperate.

Oh! 

Nice. Okay.

A heavy sigh of relief echoed slightly against the tiles. 

He made his way back into the stall again, saved by Past LeFou.

Well, hey. At least now he had a spot at a table to look forward to, with a guy who was really attractive. 

The bell telling him lunch was starting rang. He’d spent longer than he thought stuck in the stall. 

There was nothing left to do but look for Gaston.

Well, there was one thing left to do, he noted as he caught sight of the hip high inflatable Eiffel Tower in the corner. He’d need to return the bathroom pass first. 


	2. BOGO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Bright"
> 
> Trans boy Gaston, trans girl Stanley. Inspired by [this post](http://optimisam.tumblr.com/post/165905640359/gender-and-pleasure).

The first time the word was aimed at him, a spark passed over the lips of the stranger and went with it, lighting up the inside of Gaston’s ears like the warm glow of a lantern during a hunting trip. The waitress had apologized, but he’d barely heard it.

“It’s no problem,” he told her pleasantly. He hadn’t been able to stop smiling, even as Mother started to complain about the housekeeper again. Being seen differently was a pleasant shock, a common enough static discharge with no ill effects. 

The short hair felt nice, he decided dreamily. He couldn’t stop touching it, styling it, even months after his first conscious cut, having previously cut it as a matter of absent-minded convenience. 

He had never minded much of anything about his body, even when deciding what he would change his name to (he decided on Gaston). 

He found a binder highly acceptable, but a bra didn’t bother him, so long as it was comfortable and did its job. He didn’t have much of a chest to worry about, and, even if he had, he had other things to focus on, other things to accomplish, like co-running the PRIDE group. 

Stanley felt similarly about the light, about the brightness that could be found in being free. The look on Stanley’s face the first time they’d been at the mall and he’d encouraged her had really been something.

“You keep staring. Put one on.” He gave her a slight push.  


“I couldn’t!” Stanley exclaimed. She was frozen, wanting but Knowing Better.  


“I’ll do it too,” Gaston said easily, throwing a hand across her shoulders.   


“What?! Won’t that bother you?”  


“Of course not! I’ve worn a dress before,” Gaston said pleasantly, heedless of the strange look a nearby mother gave him. With the arm across Stanley’s shoulders, he casually waved to the stranger.  


“I’ll help you find the right size, too. We’ll try a couple,” Gaston assured.  


With another push, he released Stanley, and Stanley carefully looked around, her eyes lingering on detailing and colors, on the flow of skirts. Gaston, not particularly patient, gathered up dresses for her. 

“There’s...there’s a limit,” Stanley said cautiously, and he noted that she was shaking slightly, as was her voice.  


“They know me here,” Gaston said easily. He was rich, and he was popular, and he had bought many dresses from places like it already. He was probably going to buy one for Stanley, if the look in his eyes was anything to go on. He was a sporting guy.  


“Okay,” Stanley said, letting her breath out in a whoosh. She let him fill up his arms with dresses, then accepted the couple he made her hold.

It only took one, which he was so kind helping her zip up, for her face to show what he’d thought it might.

She was careful to inspect her appearance for a moment, turning, swishing the skirt. Then, she smiled. It was a deep smile, making her eyes sparkle.

“Wow,” Gaston told her, watching her as she watched herself in the mirror.

With every dress, even the ones that didn’t work for her for reasons of size or shape or color, she just _smiled_.

She saw it too, the brightness, the rightness, that lit up life. “Sir,” for him, and short hair, the way his teammates accepted him on the whole, even if there had been hiccups at times.   


For her, it was dresses. Later, at his home, she tried on his bra, and they stuffed it for her.

At the drug store, when she was buying her first pink disposable razors, his hand on her shoulder for encouragement, her face faltered for a moment. “Oh,” she said, handing him the package roughly. He took a look at the little coupon, squinting at it. 

“Oh!” 

“Cissexism, I know thee well,” she joked, but something about her face showed how she had been jarred out of her brighter mood.  


“I need to restock anyway,” he said. “I’ll buy, and we’ll use this coupon.” He rested his forehead against hers for a sec when she didn’t seem too certain. “Seriously. I have to restock. I’ll show you, I’m down to the last couple,” he said, and it jolted her out of the worry, making her laugh.   


“Okay,” she said, and the smile was back. She pulled her head away. “Thank you.”   


When he was helping her shave back at home in the luxury tub and she took over and almost immediately cut herself at the back of the ankle with a hiss, he laughed. 

“What is it?” she asked him, almost amused, even as she winced at the pain. He’d have something good to add.  


“Women bleed in lots of different ways, Stanley.” 

She had to laugh again as he got her a band-aid and helped clean the wound. 

“Your positivity is contagious,” she sighed happily. “Will you finish this up for me?”  


“Any time,” he assured her. “No one shaves a leg like Gaston.”  


She hummed to herself pleasantly as she watched him finish up for her, practically glowing as bright as the bathroom lights as he knelt there, as he leaned over. 

Her heart fluttered a bit. “Gaston, you’re too much,” she told him. He grinned at her, his hand holding her leg still at the knee. 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he shot back.   


She thought, as she looked at him, there were very few things about life that she knew and he didn’t. She was better at school, and she had the secret of harboring a growing crush, but, no, there wasn’t a whole lot she could offer to teach him about. 

“I don’t have a date for spring formal,” she blurted out. She panicked about it after it was out, wondering if he’d stop being so close with her, stop sharing coupon deals and dressing rooms.  


He finished the last few strokes of the razor on her leg, the faint scratch sensual, making her want to squirm almost as much as the fact she’d asked did. 

“Let’s go,” he said, glancing up at her. “I’ll blow mine off.”   


She laughed, the sound echoing lightly against white tile. “Okay!”

He helped her rinse her legs off, and let her dry off, the silence lingering but not oppressive.

She reached out, decked in his bra stuffed with his socks and her own boxers. 

The hug was warm, gentle. They didn’t usually hug, though he was very physical.

“Gaston? Thank you. Give me a second; don’t ask what for.” She had to gather her words. He waited, though he didn’t tend to be patient.  


“Thank you for being a bright spot in my life! Not that it’s dark, but this is all so new, and you really seem to understand being true to yourself. Thank you.”  


He tightened his grip on her, their heights almost equal, the faint smell of shaving gel still in the air. 

“Cool!” he enthused. “And thanks for seeing this all as positive.” He finally pulled away, looked at her sincerely. “You always want to join in all the fun. I love telling norms to go fuck themselves.”  


“Yes!” Stanley enthused, clenching her hands into fists that wanted to break out into a cheer, but she didn’t know one for their situation. “Yes!”   


“I’ll see if I can get us nominated for court,” he said thoughtfully, and he was on his way out of the open bathroom door already.   


With a sigh and a soft smile, Stanley bent to put her jeans back on, finding the new sensation of the denim strange, strong, new. A little bit sensual. 

He was already in planning mode. She’d probably end up going home because he’d get pretty caught up in what he was doing. 

The school year would have been so different with a different best friend. Tom and Dick were amazing, and always had been, but Gaston’s light was just that much more blinding.


End file.
